


Insights

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Multipairing, No Sex, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: So this is another angsty-(ish) story inspired by one of my favourite songs by Peter Gabriel "I Grieve"It's not really about any relationship but more of an insight/character study into Tom Paris, given through the POV's of other characters.I hope you enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's interested in the Star Dates in this chapter, it indicates 24th century (4) Pre-series (7 The numeral seven relates to the 7th season of TNG) and the rest is random numbers which probably relate to day of the week, time of day, ship's location relative to the nearest Star Fleet beacon etc.  
> Then it changes to 48xxx.x to denote the first season of Voyager when Tom meets Kathryn Janeway, which would have occurred during the 8th season of TNG had that show continued.
> 
> Those of you who are not that nerdy, please carry on. :)

**Star date 47279.4**

I'm sitting here on board some ship...I don't even know what it's fucking called.

In a sick bay on some fucking ship with no name...and trying to explain to this god damned doctor that I don't need any pain relief.

I don't want to numb the pain. I want to _feel_ it. I want to _remember_.

Dammit! nothing could numb the pain anyway.  
  
God! They were my friends...my _friends_ and now they're dead...and it's my fucking fault..and I lived to remember...I lived to grieve....   
 

 

>   
>    
>  * * * *   
>  _It was only one hour ago,_  
>  _It was all so different then,_  
>  _And nothing yet has really,_  
>  _sunk in._  
>  _Looks like it always did._  
>  _This flesh and bone is just the way that we are tied in_  
>  _from this moment on_  
>  _I grieve_  
>  _for you._  
>  _You leave_  
>  _me._  
>    
>  * * * * 

  
  
  
  
I heal. Physically.  
  
Emotionally, I bleed.  
  
Mentally...I invent ways to avoid it.   
  
I lie to the admirals when I am questioned. "The Sensors malfunctioned," I say. I look into the eyes of those men and I dismiss the deaths of my friends as an 'accident.'   
  
I don't admit the error of judgement I made. I don't tell anyone that they are dead because of me.   
  
I hold it all inside, deep inside and I try to forget.  
  
Some of my friends try at first to tell me to put it behind me. Move on, they say. You couldn't change it. There was nothing you could have done... And they....they wouldn't blame you, Tom. They wouldn't want you to tear yourself up like this. Life carries on. They say.

 

>  
> 
>   
>    
>  * * * *   
>  _So hard to move on_  
>  _still loving what's gone_  
>  _still life carries on_  
>  _carries on and on_  
>  _and on_  
>  _and on_  
>    
>  * * * *
> 
>  

  
  
And Charlie, Sam and Caroline, they had it all ahead of them! They coulda gone so far....so far until I came along and destroyed it all. Fuck! Why am I alive?  
Why did I live when they were burned...charred...unrecognizable... _gone_ and me? I have to fucking live! They had everything to live for. I had nothing....life is so god damned _fucking_ unfair.

And I will  
Smell the burning  
for the rest of my life.   
  
  
He's right. My father. He's right when he says I am a no good fucking hopeless case. It's true.   
  
I hate myself! I hate Thomas Eugene Paris. I hate what am, and what I am becoming. I'll do one thing right before I die. I'll make their deaths mean something.

 

The empty pages can never be written now....but I can fucking make up for the wrong I did them! 

 

 

>   
>    
>    
>    
>  * * * *   
>  _The news that truly shocks_  
>  _is the empty empty page_  
>  _while the final rattle rocks_  
>  _it's empty empty cage_  
>  _and I can't handle this_  
>    
>  _I grieve......_  
>  _For you_  
>  _You leave..._  
>  _Me_  
>    
>  * * * *

 

 **Stardate 47938.2**  
  
I tell them.   
  
I tell them I lied, and I get my fucking ass grilled.  
Then I am thrown out. Fuck, after all it's no less than I deserve, right?

  
Wrong!...It's better than I deserve! I deserved to _die_.  
They deserved to live.  
I am the fucking useless screw up that got them all killed.   
  
So what now? Where now?

 

>   
>    
>    
>    
>  _* * * *_  
>  _Let it out and move on_  
>  _missing what's gone_  
>  _they say life carries on_  
>    
>  _They say Life carries on_  
>  _and on_  
>  _and on_  
>    
>  _* * * *_
> 
>  

  
Life.   
  
Fuck. What _is_ life anyway. We are born...we grow up..some of us are lucky enough that we have someone who loves us and takes pride in what we do.   
  
Caroline was lucky like that. Everyone loved her. Even me, fuck it. She loved me back?! Something wrong with her reasoning if I am any judge of things. But then...I am not really a judge of anything. I proved that on Caldik prime, remember?   
  
Oh yeah...I remember...how could I forget? The reminder is reflected to me in the eyes of every fucking 'Star Fleet' I meet...They remember...and they will never let me forget.   
  
Yeah, we're born and we grow up...and the lucky ones get to die before they fuck up big time. The unlucky ones get to fuck up and destroy someone else's universe in the fucking process.   


 

 

>   
>    
>  _* * * *_  
>  _Life carries on in the people I meet_  
>  _in everyone that's out on the street_  
>  _in all the dogs and cats_  
>  _in the flies and rats_  
>  _in the rot and the rust_  
>  _in the ashes and the dust_  
>    
>  _Life carries on and on and on_  
>  _life carries on and on and on_  
>  _life carries on and on and on and on_  
>  _life carries on and on and on_  
>    
>  _* * * *_

 

 

  
It goes on, though and sometimes, even in the deepest darkness, a light glimmers.  
For me, that light is in the freedom of flying. Only there can I forget. Only when I feel a ship respond to my touch on the helm can I escape.   
  
For a little while.  
  
But there are no ships anymore. I'm grounded as far as Star Fleet goes.   
  
But...I _have_ to fly! Maybe...maybe in flying I can find absolution. Maybe somehow, someday I can fly a mission that will wipe all this shit away? Maybe there is hope for me. Maybe...   


**Stardate 47679.1**

 

Chakotay.  
  
I met him in a bar in France. The dark man with the dark eyes. Hot, icy eyes. Fuck! I know that makes no sense to you, but you had to _see_ his eyes to understand that someone can have fire and ice mixed together in their soul and it makes perfect sense.   
  
Christ! Maybe my eyes look like that too! I know there is a fire in me that will burn me forever. A fire that stinks of charred human flesh. A stench that stays in my nostrils and clings to everything I put my hands on. But my heart is dead. Cold as ice, and I know where he is at cause I have been there...fuck! I live there!   
  
It's the thing that keeps me alive. it's the house I live in. it's not a pleasant house, but it is mine and until I met him, I thought I lived in it alone.   
  
  
  
_* * * *_  
_just the car that we ride in_  
_the home we reside in_  
_the face that we hide in_  
_the way we are tied in_  
  
_As life carries on and on and on_  
_life carries on and on and on_  
  
_* * * *_

 

**Stardate 48865.5**

  
I flew with him. One stinking lousy mission I flew! Hell! it's laughable. I forgot fate had me grounded, see? And I got caught.   
  
And now I walk along this path and I talk to this nutty captain who wants me to help her capture him.   
  
Fuck! I wanna laugh...and I wanna cry! Shit! How did this happen?   
  
Star Fleet throws me out. I can't last more than one mission in the Maquis, and this crazy dame wants me to help her.   
  
Christ, if it wasn't so fucking pathetic I'd be howling my guts up laughing!   
  
But, hell! it's a way out of the cage, right?  
I take her up on it.  
Maybe this time I will do something right.  
Maybe this time, I will find the way to set the record straight.  
Ya never know.  
Maybe _this_ is the mission that will wipe the slate clean.   
  
And maybe...just fucking maybe with a little luck...I'll be free. 

 

 

>   
>    
>    
>  _* * * *_  
>  _Did I dream this belief?_  
>  _Or did I believe this dream?_  
>  _That I will find relief_  
>    
>  _I grieve..._  
>    
>  _* * * *_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chakotay**

* * *

  
He has to be the most solitary person I ever met. I don't know what it is with him. People can be lonely. People are called loners. Tom is different. Tom is just _alone_ and he chooses to be that way. He puts up walls. He isolates himself. Yet, in some strange way, fate has decreed that he and I should be together. Alone. Together.   
  
I remember the first time I saw him. In Sandrine's. On Earth. I remember he drew my attention because of the way he seemed to surround himself with a cocoon made of pure "Fuck off."   
  
It intrigued me enough to have me staring at him. He noticed, though he tried hard not to let me know he had.   
  
I had to credit him for that. His: "Leave me the fuck alone" attitude was finely tuned. He wore it like a suit of clothing.   
  
But I was never one to leave such a challenge untaken...unanswered. I broke his unspoken rule. I walked over to him. I sat next to him when he made no reply to my softly spoken request to join him.   
  
He tried to freeze me with those cold, hopeless eyes but I smiled and offered to buy him another of whatever he was drinking. He told me I could if I must.   
  
I bought him the drink and told him my name. He told me his name was Paris. Paris. Nothing more.  
  
We drank together in silence. He was so young, and there was something haunted about him. He was obviously running. He reminded me of the story I read once…of a dog with a tin can tied to it's tail.   
  
The dog runs and the tin clatters, the clattering scares the dog, he runs faster, the faster pace makes the can clatter louder… a vicious cycle.   
  
Paris was that demented dog. Running from a noise he couldn't escape.   
  
I watched him, hide inside his pain. Wrapping himself in darkness. He didn't want anyone to touch him. I could see that. But something in me just couldn't leave him untouched. He would take careful handling. He was ready to shatter.   
  
He was like an egg shell after the yolk and membranes are blown out of it. It appears so rigid and together, but an infant could crush it.   
  
My heart went out to him. I knew where he was at. I had been there.   
  
He made no protest when I asked him to join us. He didn't exactly jump at the opportunity. But he came with me; back to my room that first night, then, later, back to my ship.   
  
It wasn't his fight. He acknowledged that. Still, he said:   
  
"Fuck, it's not as if I owe Star Fleet anything. And they sure as fuck don't want me."   
  
He looked into my eyes and said: "I am a pilot. I'm the best. I'll fly for you and I'll join your fight…apart from that I want to be left alone. Clear?"   
  
There was no arguing with him.   
  
I took him up on it.   
  
I made him my special project. I spent more time with him than with anyone else on my crew. Some of them resented it. Seska especially. She resented him, and the way he was able to work his way into my life. Once, I would have cared about how she felt…but I didn't then, and ignoring her was my downfall.   
  
Over the few weeks Tom flew with us, he slowly opened up. He told me about the shuttle accident. The horror of losing his three friends. His attempted cover up. His eventual confession and discharge from Star Fleet.   
  
And I saw for myself, the monsters that plagued him. I witnessed the flashbacks. The terror and madness in his eyes at those times scared me. Spirits! I defy anyone to say that it didn't scare them. The monsters in his head were slowly driving him mad.   
  
I couldn't take the monsters away. I couldn't absolve him of his self imposed guilt, his self made prison. I could only try to be there for him. Try to help him through the bad times. Spirits! I wanted to be there for him forever. How did this kid get under my guard so easily?   
  
But it wasn't to be. I sent him on a mission one night with some of the others. He went willingly. If there was one thing Tom could be relied on for, it was to follow orders. I trusted him. Probably better than anyone else on my crew. He knew me, and I knew him. We'd shared about everything there was in us to share with each other. We'd seen parts of each other that no-one else had.   
  
When he didn't come back from that mission, I thought I would go insane. They caught him! The bastards caught him and there was not a damned thing I could do to help him.   
  
I had to think of my crew. The others who trusted me to get them through this. I had to leave him to face prison alone.

We took to hiding in the Badlands and I tried to live with the pain of losing him. 

  
I can't prove it…couldn't prove it then and can't now; now that it no longer matters...no proof just a feeling an instinct that, somehow, Seska was behind his capture.   
  
I never imagined that I would see him again. I certainly never imagined it would be under the circumstances that it came about.   
  
He betrayed us! Spirits! I couldn't believe it when I saw him aboard Voyager. My heart stopped. I stared into those cobalt blue eyes and tried to speak. Tried to say something to him and my voice just would not function.   
  
I wanted to kill him. I remember I told him once that I would kill him if he ever betrayed me. I don't know why I said that to him. Perhaps a part of me knew...suspected all along that this kid was the one person who could get close enough to betray me. I don't know. I only know the knowledge that he had, almost tore my heart out.   
  
I didn't kill him. At first it was only because the rules were different. In the Maquis, you can kill someone who lets you down. In Star Fleet it's different. You can only try to live with it. 'Maintain the professional relationship' and freeze the person out in any way you can outside of duty.   
  
That is exactly what I did.   
  
It would possibly have helped if he had cared. But he never gave a flicker to let me know my actions had any effect on him. The more I worked on pushing him out the less he appeared to care.   
  
My heart was breaking the whole time. And he was living his life like it didn't matter. I couldn't believe it.   
  
I decided to just ignore him. Freezing him out only made him more confident, and communicating with him was out of the question. I threw myself into my role as Voyager's first officer. I left Tom to his own devices, and tried to pretend it didn't matter to me who the latest gossip told me he was sleeping with. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Tom**

 

 "Good to have you back, Mr Tuvok." Janeway said.

I saw Chakotay's eyes, the fire that kindled in them.   
  
"I must inform you that I was assigned to infiltrate your crew, sir."  As Tuvok spoke, Chakotay's eyes scanned the bridge.

It was like he had some kind of built in fucking homing device. He found me just that easily. His eyes rested on me and I wanted to fade out of existence.   
  
He looked away, turning to Tuvok. "Were you going to deliver us into their waiting hands, Vulcan?"   
  
"My mission was to accumulate information on Maquis activities, and then: 'deliver you into their waiting hands,' that is correct."   
  
"I see you had help." His gaze burned into me.

I took a deep breath, I raised my 'shields' and went on the attack. "It's good to see you too, Chakotay."   
  
"At least the Vulcan was doing his duty as a Star Fleet officer, but you! You betrayed us for what? Freedom from prison? Latinum? What was your price this time?"   
  
 _It wasn't like that, Chakotay! Gods…it wasn't like that!_

I stepped toward him. I wanted to shake him, to touch that core I know is in him … to tell him all that had happened in that stinking Federation prison.   
  
The Federation is so fucking clean! So god damned fucking pristine and righteous and upstanding. Oh! and let's not forget moral!   
  
On the _outside_.  
  
Step into a Federation penal settlement though and you find the Federation is as capable of barbarism as any other god forsaken culture in the universe.   
  
I had to get out…I know I betrayed him, but I defy _anyone_ , even him to act differently in my place!   
  
The Captain stepped between us. She spoke; I don't even remember now, what she said, but he backed off. He turned away. His eyes no longer froze me to the spot and somehow, even that hurt. I lowered my eyes, unable to look at him. I felt the walls go up between us and knew he was going to just shut me out.   
  
 _God! What was my price? My price was a way out of the cage, Chakotay. What I forfeited was worth so much more!_  
  
I had dreaded this moment. It was the one thing about this mission that had the power to chill me. I remember the one time we spoke about this kinda shit in the Maquis. He told me…he looked into my eyes and he told me:   
  
"I can take anything from anyone, Tom! I can take all the shit you want to hand me. But betray me…ever and you will be dead before your body hits the floor."   
  
I remembered that, and looking into his eyes told me he remembered it too. And we both knew when he said it, and when we met again. It was no idle threat.   
  
I thought it would be a real good time to start making a will. The only problem there, being I didn't own a fucking thing. Actually, that's not entirely true. There was one thing I owned, something I still have…but right then, I didn't have anyone I could leave it to. Not anyone I thought would care about it the way I do anyway.   
  
We hardly spoke a word to each other after that first confrontation on the Bridge. Captain Janeway allowed me to go with her, Tuvok, Ayala and Chakotay to look for Harry and Torres. I said I wanted to go for Harry's sake. Partly true. But I also wanted to go with them so I could be near Chakotay. Maybe I could find a way to explain to him.   
  
Looking back now, I am glad I went. If I hadn't … he may be dead. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chakotay**

 

There is an old movie...Terran, in which one of the characters speaks of a woman he couldn't seem to shake off. His words, I believe are something along the lines of: "Of all the Gin Joints in all the world, she hadda walk into mine."   
  
Admittedly I wasn't in a Gin Joint. And, I'll grant you, it wasn't even mine. And the walker in was not female. But the sentiment is the same.   
  
Of all the people to come back for me. Of all the people to care enough about my miserable hide to want to risk their own for it...it had to be you.   
  
I remember thinking that this was my chance. I could so easily have let go that twisted metal railing, taken hold of your hand...a traitors hand...and dragged us both to our doom. This could have been the day when I made good on my promise to kill you.  
  
Yet, there was something in your eyes. Something indefinable. Something I recognized and yet couldn't name. I looked at you. You stared into my eyes holding out your hand. And you made some stupid remark about how I would rather die than let you be the one to save me. I wondered then, as I had before and have many times since if you had read my mind.   
  
I put my hand in yours and you hauled me out scant moments before fate would have decided for us.   
  
Spirits, I remember the pain. My leg. I came down on it hard when the stairway collapsed; it was broken. I knew as soon as I felt the impact, and realized the odd twisted angle it was on. There would be no way I could get out alone. Kathryn and Tuvok were with me, I urged them to keep going, there was no way I could go on. I wanted to see them get out safely. After all, what did it matter if I died? The desperate leader of a bunch of renegades.   
  
Later, I would hear accounts from others on the planet at that time, how you got out, alive and unhurt with Kes, Neelix, Harry and B'Elanna, and, against all warnings to the contrary, heedless for your own safety...you came back I tried to kid myself for a while that you came back for Tuvok and your captain, but I knew that wasn't entirely true. You were there for me.   
  
I still laugh, now, when I remember the way you rattled on about nonsense...distracting me from my pain. Making crazy remarks about me transforming into a bird and flying us both out. I laugh to remember how you told me my life belonged to you. I laugh but my heart contracts every time I think of it ... I wanted to hate you, Tom. But my heart wouldn't let me.   
  
We got out, alive and more or less in one piece. I went back to the Crazy Horse after Voyager's doctor repaired the damage to my leg.   
  
Under attack from the Kazon there was no time to think about vendettas or life debts. It was one in all in for survival. And I realized the only way all of us would stand any kind of a chance was to pull the stops and join forces. I sent my crew aboard Voyager and sacrificed my ship.   
  
Of all the people to make me turn my back on my independence and put on the federation uniform again. It had to be you. You, Tom Paris, my nemesis, my destiny. The one person in all this universe who can ever hope to own me.   
  
It has nothing to do with saving my life, I was yours before we ever saw the Care Taker or Ocampa Prime. I belong to you, heart and soul. Of all the people to capture my spirit and make me his own. It had to be you.

But you will never know it, if I have my way.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

**Harry Kim**

 

Harry laid his beloved clarinet aside with a sigh and stood up. Moving to the view port, he gazed out at the streaming stars as Voyager cruised at warp through yet another seemingly endless sector of the Delta Quadrant. 

Anyone who knew Harry Kim well would have read in an instant, the pain that flickered in the depths of the quietly reserved young man's gaze. 

But he was alone. 

_Always alone..._  He turned away from the view port. _It's gonna be strange, not being at home for the celebrations this year. I never expected to be away for more than a few weeks._  Chewing on his lower lip, he walked over to the replicator and ordered himself a soda. _I might as well try to make the most of my time off_. 

Harry felt the ship make a slight alteration of course and allowed his thoughts to turn to Tom. 

He'd liked Tom from the first moment he saw him. The brash, confident manner such a contrast to Harry's own fumbling, nervous shyness. He chuckled as he recalled how Tom had stepped in and saved him from being railroaded by the Ferengi, Quark, on Deep Space Nine. 

Then, later, Tom had asked the captain for permission to come looking for him on the Ocampan home world, where the 'caretaker' had sent him and B'Elanna to die of their mysterious illness. 

Tom had never admitted to it, but others had told Harry how Tom had searched the ship for him when they returned from the array. How he informed the captain that Harry was missing...and then, coming back to help his "friend" to escape. 

_We are friends...'_   Harry thought as he sipped his drink and moved back to sit on the sofa, putting the soda down on a table and picking up his clarinet. He tried a few notes of the tune he was learning. A Song dating from the time of the second world war on earth. The notes flowed smoothly as Harry concentrated on the intricate fingering. His mind followed the lyrics as he played. 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _'I'll be home for Christmas,_  
>  _You can count on me._  
>  _Please have snow and mistletoe,_  
>  _and presents on the tree.'_

 

He stopped playing and laid the instrument across his lap, staring once more out of the view port. 

Tom didn't like Christmas. 

_He doesn't like Thanksgiving either. In fact, there are not many holidays he likes._  

He ran his fingers absently across the smooth ebony surface of the clarinet as he thought about the Thanksgiving dinner the Captain had held just a week ago. 

Tom had refused to attend. 

Harry tried to get his friend to loosen up, to quit living in the past and join with the rest of the crew. It had been useless. Tom refused, point blank. Not even Chakotay's threats and commands could budge him. He said Thanksgiving didn't give him anything to be grateful for. He said he hated the holiday and would rather stay away than spoil it for everyone. 

Harry bit his lip. Tom had already made it pretty plain that he had even less intention of attending any kind of Christmas celebration. 

It was so hard to believe that a man as gentle and sweet as Tom, was also so hard and unrelenting in his bitterness towards his past. 

Harry had long ago given up trying to stop his thoughts from turning this way, realizing that no matter how he tried to deny it, he was in love with Tom Paris. _Not that it ever leads me anywhere...except into more pain. Tom might be bisexual...he might be a runaround...but as far as that goes, he doesn't seem to realize I exist!_ ' 

Harry had watched, and fretted as Tom worked his way through one relationship after another. It was embarrassing sometimes, to think of how many of the women on the ship Tom had wooed, wined, dined, romanced and... Harry stopped his thought's right there, knowing that was treading on far too dangerous ground. 

He closed his eyes, his fingers continuing to rub the smooth, warm ebony of the Clarinet, imagining running his fingers across Tom's skin as he did so. 

He parted his lips, breathing a little faster between his teeth, imagining Tom's gentle hands on his body, touching, stroking, playing Harry just as Harry played the instrument that lay in his lap. He moaned, whispering Tom's name then shook himself opening his eyes and snapping himself out of the sensual daze he'd entered. 

Raising the clarinet to his lips once more he played the second verse of the song. 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Christmas eve will find me,_  
>  _Where the love light gleams._  
>  _I'll be home for Christmas,_  
>  _If only in my dreams!_

 

Harry had seen the light of love gleam in Tom's eyes. Always for someone else, never for Him. 

He longed to be with Tom. To find a home where that love light gleamed. But he knew it could never be. Tom didn't even know that Harry liked men. It was obvious in the way that Tom was forever trying to "fix him up" with a date. 

Harry closed his eyes, playing on as a silent tear escaped from under his eyelids and slid down his cheek. 

 

>  Dedicated to all those in service, who will spend holidays away from home and loved ones. Peace.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**B'Elanna Torres**

 

 

I've watched them, the three of them, almost from the first day we came aboard this ship. The dance that they are unconsciously involved in. The nuances they unwittingly allow to slip, the things they think no-one else notices. 

So strong, he is. Always was...or tries to be. So ... proud and strong and silent. 

      On the outside. 

Is it only me that knows who he  _really is?_  On the inside? Am I the only one who knows where his heart is? Or was, once. 

And the one he watches over. the one he claims to belongs to. 

So devil may care...strange term, that, but it fits him. So ... debonair and charming and sophisticated ... a real smooth talker. 

      On the outside. 

But sometimes, the mask will slip, when he thinks no-one sees. When he thinks he is alone, the defenses drop and you see the lost little boy inside. The pain that hides behind the jester's paint. I find even my heart wrenched for him at those moments. He can be hurt. He has been hurt. Because he allows it, he will be hurt again. 

I watch him more than the others, I guess. Maybe I think he needs protecting...from who? From himself, I think. I deny that I love him. Who could love such a bundle of hang ups? Maybe...I could? 

_Get real Torres! He doesn't even know you exist!_

And there is the third corner to the triangle. The fifth wheel. The gooseberry. The lovelorn outsider. Kahless! How he can bear to torture himself over them the way he does is beyond me! 

I've ... befriended him. I guess he matches me in some ways. We're both caught on the outside.That, and the things we've been through together. The Ocumpan home world, the disease...the pain...physical and emotional. 

Ah, he's just kid! and a Star Fleet too! Why do I bother with him? But that's just him. 

      On the Outside. 

Inside, he is sensitive, warm, and vulnerable. All the things I am not. Or try not to be. 

He literally quivers with the pain that being on the outside causes him; and damned if he doesn't hide it better than they do! Than any of us do! 

We underestimate him. There is more grit and backbone in that kid than any of us have given him credit for. Why does that thought make me want to cry? 

I bother with him, because... I know he is going to need someone to 'bother' when they finally decide (and they will), that they live and breathe for one another, that they belong to one another in a way that goes beyond this so called "life debt." 

I know he is gonna need someone to 'bother' then. 

And so will I.

      But not on the outside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not and have never, 'shipped' Tom Paris/B'Elanna but this chapter needed to be written because B'Elanna can speak a little to who Tom is.


End file.
